


The Better to See You With

by Rheaird_of_Life



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, If you know my stuff at all you know this will be more silly than anything else, Sounds more ominous than it actually is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheaird_of_Life/pseuds/Rheaird_of_Life
Summary: Eve agrees to make a YouTube video to pay off some of her debt.Little does she know what – or rather who - lies in wait.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	The Better to See You With

Eve was almost perpetually strapped for cash since the divorce. At the behest of her good friend Elena, she agreed to participate in one of her YouTube videos. Eve didn't know any of the particulars beyond nine other people would be involved and she would be making a thousand pounds. Elena's channel, Jubilation, was doing fairly well with some two million subscribers. Apparently her charismatic friend had a knack for creating viral hits.

Maybe she was a bad friend, or maybe she was just too damn busy being down in the dumps over her failed marriage, but she had never actually watched any of Elena's creations. And maybe she should have pressed for more details before agreeing. A normal person would have wanted to know what they were getting themselves into for all the world to see. Eve had never been very normal though. Whatever that meant.

So now here she was dolled up to the nines in her expensive electric blue dress, apparently standing before a group of complete strangers. She says apparently because she also happens to be blindfolded. For all she knows she's absolutely alone and Elena just has the cameras rolling, excitedly waiting to see how long it takes for her to lose her patience, or her mind, and cause a scene. Some sort of weird, abstract, social experiment, titled, Blindfolded Woman Can't Take the Silence, Flips Out.

Most likely it's just nerves making her think the worst of her friend. Eve was a fairly private person and had never purposely appeared in a YouTube video before. She was breaking new ground today, so it was only natural to be a little off kilter. Especially since for some damn reason she decided to wear three inch heels. Like a total moron. For all she knew they would be filming for hours.

“Okay then, let's get started,” says Elena after what feels like forever. “Now, Eve, you've got nine lovely individuals here with you, and they are all anxious to meet you. They're going to come up to you one by one and you're going to have a conversation. You can talk about whatever you want. Just keep it interesting. If at the end of this conversation you want to kiss them, you can do so. But that's your decision of course. Keep in mind that the blindfold must stay in place until I say otherwise.”

And what the fuck. This was so much worse than Eve imagined. Kissing strangers blindfolded on camera? Who in their right mind agreed to such a thing?

Then at some invisible cue, there's suddenly someone very near at hand.

Judging by their earthy cologne, or perhaps aftershave, a man. Well of course it would be a man. Eve was straight. Elena knows that. She wouldn't have any women here. That would be weird. And even if for some strange reason there _were_ some women here, it didn't matter. It's not like she had to kiss them. Or anyone for that matter. There's nothing to worry about. All she has to do is talk. She can do that. Probably.

“Hi, Eve,” says the disembodied voice. Definitely male. A nice baritone. “I'm Jamie.”

“Hello, Jamie,” responds Eve politely. “I'm Eve.” She mentally chastises herself for her stupidity. “But you knew that already. Because Elena already said. And you probably already knew before you even agreed to do this thing,” she babbles uncontrollably. “Why _did_ you agree to do this thing? Was it just for the money? Or do you have a thing for kissing strangers on camera?”

_Oh my GOD, shut up!_

“Not that we're going to kiss,” she chuckles nervously. “I mean, _maybe_ we will. I don't know. Anything could happen I guess. Depends on-”

“Eve, sweetie, you need to calm down,” calls Elena across the void of the studio. “You're just meant to have a little chat. It's going to be perfectly fine. I'm right here. No one is going to take advantage of the situation. You've got nothing to worry about.”

Utter silence and then, “I agreed to do this thing because I've had a rough go of it lately and thought maybe you could turn things around for me. You've got the look of a woman who knows how to have a good time.”

Wait, was that a pick up line?

“Uh, thanks,” she replies eloquently. “Do you, uh, want to talk about it?”

“Well, suffice it to say, after my online publication went under and my wife slowly died of cancer and left me with the sole care of our kids - one of whom is starting to go blind - I've been sorely lacking in laughs.”

Jesus, and she thought _she_ had it bad.

A normal person would probably have offered condolences here.

Eve's brilliant idea is to tell a joke.

It's all she can do not to burst out laughing at the mere thought of it.

“A racist, a murderer, and a domestic abuser walk into a bar.” She pauses dramatically, bites her lip to hold back a giggle. “The bartender says, 'What can I get you, officer?'”

The rather contentious joke elicits a laugh. More of a guffaw really. Just not from her intended target. It was further away and sounded distinctively female. Or so she imagines. Having her sight extinguished is surprisingly disorienting on her other senses. Except for scent, that one still seems to be holding firm.

The ensuing quiet is possibly the most awkward of her life. “Well, _I_ thought it was funny,” she mutters. “And you said you wanted a laugh so...”

Valiantly, Jamie presses on, redirects to a new, albeit, uninspired topic.

“So, what do you do, Eve? Besides tell inappropriate jokes?”

There's a hint of amusement in his tone now at least. She feels slightly more at ease when she responds.

“Oh, I'm a sous-chef at Jin Go Gae. The dumpling place?” she adds when that elicits no verbal recognition.

“Right. I think I've heard of that place.” He says this in a tone that confirms he has never in fact heard of it until five seconds ago. “Can't say I've ever been. Not really a fan of dumplings.”

Just because she prides herself on making the best ones in New Malden, doesn't mean she's biased at all. She's capable of remaining objective. Of realizing that everyone has different tastes. There were plenty of things that _she_ didn't like after all, like most fruits and pretty much every pickle known to man.

But seriously, who didn't like dumplings?? They were delicious!! Only an extremely uncultured weirdo didn't like dumplings!!

She's definitely not plotting his demise or anything right now. That would be completely unhinged. And she is perfectly calm.

Apparently she's exuding such a powerful wave of displeasure that Jamie is able to pick it up like a radio receiver.

“This isn't going to work out, is it?” he says, marginally apprehensive.

“Guess not,” says Eve as pleasantly as she can manage.

If she cared about looking compassionate, she'd probably have given him a hug or a kiss on the cheek right about now.

She barely has time to recover before the next person is standing before her.

“Hey, I'm Mo,” says the timid sounding man.

She's not sure if it's because of the situation or her recent cold dismissal.

She _is_ sure however that he smells of berries.

“I work for MI6.”

Okay, well _now_ maybe things are getting interesting. And not in a totally soul crushing way. She's always had a thing for spies and assassins.

“Are you even allowed to tell people that?”

“As long as I don't divulge sensitive information, it's perfectly fine.”

“So what _can_ you tell me about what you do?”

“To be honest, I'm more of a desk jockey than an agent. My boss doesn't like doing paperwork so she dele-”

“She? Your boss is a woman?”

She's double checking because she can barely believe her ears.

“Well, yeah.”

“That's so cool!” says Eve, lighting up for the first time. “What's she like?”

There's several snickers from the peanut gallery this time. Eve ignores them.

Mo seems to hesitate before answering. “She's a very forthright, no nonsense kind of person. Kind of _have_ to be in our line of work.”

“I bet,” says Eve, daydreaming about this formidable woman, saddened that she will almost certainly never meet her.

“So, what do you like to do in your spare time, Eve?”

Belatedly, she snaps back to reality.

“Oh, I read a lot of true crime. Sometimes murder mysteries, but mostly the real deal. There's just something about the morbid nature of it all that I find utterly fascinating. Do you know what I mean?”

She probably imagines it, but she feels like Mo takes a step back.

It's possible she was just smiling. A frequent occurrence when death, and death related topics, came up.

“Can't say I do. I'm actually pretty squeamish myself.”

“ _I_ know what you mean,” says a female voice, again somewhere in the vague distance. Eve's not great with accents, but she thinks maybe Ukrainian, or Russian.

Mo was nice enough, if not nearly as exciting and compatible as she was hoping, so she gives him a kiss on the cheek. Elena never specified _where_ she was supposed to kiss them if she felt so inclined.

The following participant doesn't have much of a scent, beyond a hint of sanitary wipes, so it's hard to assume their gender.

“Hello, I'm Martin,” says the man. Presumably. “I'm a psychologist who works with the criminally insane.”

“You're not going to head shrink me right now are you?” jokes Eve, feeling like herself for the first time since this whole thing started.

It's only now dawning on her that this is likely an elaborate ruse on Elena's part. To set her up with someone. It was a lot harder to turn people down on camera without looking like a dick (but obviously not impossible). Which is why so many dicks proposed in public, or even worse, on live TV. Not that there was going to be a proposal today. That would be utterly ridiculous, right?

“Only if you want me to, Eve,” answers the man in his soothing - and possibly professional - voice. “You _do_ seem to have some underlying issues that should probably be explored at depth.”

Was that a psychologist pick up line or was this guy being totally serious right now? Without a facial cue, she can't tell shit.

Elena did say she wanted them to have interesting conversations, and she's not sure they really _have_ up to this point.

She's probably going to regret this, but she doesn't know what else to talk about, so she asks, “Such as?”

“For instance, your clear, and unabashed delight at the mere _notion_ of murder was highly troubling. Furthermore, your complete inability to give Jamie words of comfort, or show minimal levels of commiseration in his time of need was quite telling. Why do you think, at _your_ age, you are so inept at basic human interaction?”

Fuck this guy. The perceived jab at her age most of all.

“Because this is a YouTube video and I didn't know everyone was going to be so bloody serious.”

“Classic case of deflection,” says Martin in an annoyingly condescending way. “I see it all the time with my patients.”

“Well, I'm not one of your _damn_ patients, now am I?” she says heatedly.

“Maybe you _should_ be. Not to toot my own horn, but I am very good at my job, Eve. I believe I could help you understand yourself better and learn to control that hideous temper bubbling just beneath the surface.”

It's not hard to fantasize about headbutting him right now and repeatedly smashing his skull into the ground. But that's all she'd ever do. Fantasize. She wasn't some psychopath who needed help controlling her urges. Eve's never killed anyone in her life, not even her aggravatingly optimistic ex-husband. If she ever _did_ kill anyone, it surely wouldn't be in front of a bunch of witnesses. And they'd surely never find the body. She's not a _total_ moron.

Without further ado, Elena speeds things along. Needless to say, Martin doesn't get any kind of kiss. Which is probably for the best as it would've involved teeth. And not in the fun way.

Where the hell did Elena find these people, anyway??

Before the next guy even opens his mouth, she instinctively recognizes them. Or rather their distinctively cheap, floral deodorant.

“Bill?” she queries.

Surely she must be wrong because why the fuck would he be here? He was married with a newborn for christs sake! _And_ he was her best friend!

“Ha!” exclaims Elena. “Knew she would spot you!”

“Damn,” says Bill grouchily. “You just cost me twenty quid, Eve!” Then he softens a little and jokingly says, “Care to make it up to me?”

He makes an exaggerated kissing sound and Eve shoves his chest playfully. “Not on your life old man! Get out of here you freak!”

Bill laughs good naturedly, and is then replaced with a woman. Not the one she heard earlier though.

This woman smells mildly of booze, like she had recently had some bourbon or some other kind of hard alcohol.

“Did you know that the best moisturizer on the market consists of pigs placenta?”

What the ever living fuck?? Is she drunk??

“It's a shame you can't see for yourself. I'm sure you would be quite dazzled. Most are.”

“I'll take your word for it,” says Eve when she finally gets over her shock. “And your name is?”

“I'd rather not say,” says the woman. “But if you _must_ call me something, you may refer to me as Genevieve. A friend of the family that I had a torrid affair with in my younger years. Quite scandalous at the time. Quite traumatic as well, when all was said and done. In fact, this is the first time I'm...branching out again, as it were.”

Eve gets the impression that this woman could be talking about the most disturbing of things and still sound utterly composed, and almost disinterested.

“Uh, well, I'm flattered.”

Why did multiple people think it was a good idea to get back into the game on a YouTube video of all places? Were any of these people being sincere or were they all just random out of work actors?

“As well you should be. Many a woman has tried and failed to secure my attentions.” Briskly, “So tell me, Eve, what exactly does one have to do to receive a proper kiss from you?”

The breakage of the previous formula is throwing her off in more ways than one.

She flounders. “Uh...well, the thing is...I'm not really...um...I don't really know how to say this...but-”

“Spit it out, Eve,” commands 'Genevieve.'

“I'm not gay!” she exclaims.

There's a distinct sound of disbelief from someone off in the distance. Perhaps her other mystery woman.

“Apparently you're not straight either,” says Genevieve, completely unruffled. “Well, if there's no chance of this happening then I might as well be off.”

“Actually, Car- I mean, Genevieve, you're required to stay until the end of the video.”

“On whose authority?”

Those three words are said with such steel that Eve gets a little turned on.

“Well, mine,” says Elena, sounding as if she is shrinking in size.

“I was led to believe that there was a very high chance of canoodling with this rather attractive woman. And watching others do so as well.”

The flush that had started after her outburst is only worsening.

“Naturally, as an avid fan of voyeurism, I agreed. Since your initial claim was apparently a falsehood, I consider this contract null and void, and as such, I will be leaving immediately.”

As if the exit of Genevieve isn't dramatic enough, the next participant barely says two words to her before pulling her into an aggressive kiss. With quite a lot of tongue.

Thankfully it's a short lived assault because someone comes over and yanks him off of her.

Eve hasn't kissed anyone new for almost a decade, so she's rather unsure of how to feel in the aftermath of being forcefully flung headfirst into the deep end.

A multitude of angry voices can be heard as various people shout at the perpetrator.

“What the _fuck_ , Hugo?!”

“You've got some nerve, you wanker!”

“You should really ask before you touch someone!”

“How would you like it if a stranger did that to you?!”

“I'd like it very much,” replies the scallywag.

More yelling ensues, not all of which is in English.

“Oh, don't get so indignant, Elena. I could see it on your face that you were disappointed at the lack of lip lock. I did you a _favour.”_

“Get this dickswab off the set immediately!” demands Elena.

The sounds of a scuffle and grunting follow.

But it's the half choked “Get this crazy bitch off me!” and “Stop that right now, Villanelle!” which bring her back to the present moment...and itching to take off the blindfold.

Who was Villanelle?

“Do you want him gone or not?” complains the Russian woman.

“Gone, not _dead_!” clarifies Elena, clearly in panic mode. “Oh bloody hell, this entire video is going to have to be scrapped, isn't it?”

“No, it's okay, I want to keep going.”

The screaming and fighting cease, leaving an eerie quiet in its wake.

“You want to continue?” says Elena incredulously. A warm hand lands on her bare shoulder, making her flinch slightly. “You must be in shock, Eve. I'm so sorry that this happened to you. I never expected everything to go tits up so badly. Sure I was expecting a little drama but nothing like _this_ shit show.”

“I want to keep going,” reiterates Eve.

If for no other reason than she _needed_ to get paid. Doubtless Elena would have just given her the money if she asked, and _then_ some, but Eve had never exactly been the sort to ask for help. Not directly anyway. Agreeing to a harebrained YouTube video on the other hand...

And the violation itself hadn't been so bad. It was the _kiss_ that had been bad. Truly terrible. Somehow it was both too dry and too sloppy. Hardly any variation or technique. The kind of kiss her highschool boyfriend was fond of. If Hugo was anything like Donald, he thought he was quite the amazing kisser.

After a slight break in which hair and makeup fix the disheveled looks of the Russian fighter and she takes a much needed sit down, they get back into it.

The next two participants are predictably weird, but also not particularly noteworthy. Or at least, Eve's mind is too laser focused on finally meeting Villanelle. Her white knight. Unsurprisingly, Elena saved her for last. The biggest wild card of the shoot. Which was saying something.

Anticipation makes her shiver when Villanelle comes near.

“Smell me, Eve. What do I smell of to you?”

Completely taken aback by yet another bizarre come on question, Eve is at a loss for words. So instead she moves in a little closer until she can feel the heat radiating off of the mysterious woman and smell the minty freshness of her breath.

The spicy perfume with a hint of smokiness is surprisingly subtle. Either the woman didn't want to douse herself like so many of the men had, or she had purposely kept it faint in order to force Eve as close as possible. Something Eve isn't exactly averse to in this moment. Even without sight and hardly any interaction, she feels some kind of connection, some kind of tug towards the other.

“Uh...” she hazards slowly, “like fire?”

There's a hint of a laugh from Villanelle. “I was going more for a Power thing, but I like your take too. Fire was the basis for all of modern civilization. Those that controlled it best, controlled the world. Built the strongest empires. Like Rome.”

“You're a history buff then?” she asks.

“I'm a student of the world. I like to learn whatever I can about those around me. That's why I know twelve languages. La conoscenza è potere. Knowledge is Power.”

This Villanelle woman really had a thing for power. A trait like that in a man would be off putting, but for some reason in a woman, it isn't. It's the exact opposite. Eve has to actively stop herself from pressing even closer. As it is, they're almost touching.

Eve shivers again at the thought.

Almost as if reading her mind, Villanelle disappointingly backs off a bit, allowing Eve's brain to return to normal levels of functioning.

“A blind man, a deaf man and a mute were murdered,” says Villanelle out of the blue. “Police said these were senseless killings.”

Though she _has_ in fact heard that one before, she still can't help but to laugh. More so at someone else enjoying her tasteless sense of humour. Bill was just about the only other person she knew that was the same as her in that regard. Which was part of the reason for the best friend status. Even if he was an asshole a lot of the time.

And she can't help but to think of herself as the blind man in this scenario, just waiting to be led to the slaughter. Willingly so. The thought is downright exhilarating.

Maybe Martin had a point?

“So what should I know about _you_ , Eve? Are you really as straight as you believe?”

After the practice with Genevieve, she doesn't sputter nearly as much.

“I-I don't know,” she admits. “I thought I was...but now...I'm not so sure.”

Eve can hear the smugness in Villanelle's voice as she says, “I have that effect on people. A woman with such a stunning body and amazing hair would be wasted on just men. You should cross the street at least once in your life.”

Villanelle isn't touching her and yet Eve almost feels like her fingers are wrapped around her throat, crushing, stilling her voice.

“With you, you mean?”

“I'll get you safely to the other side,” responds Villanelle promptly.

By the sounds of things, Villanelle uses these sorts of lines all the time. Or is otherwise just playing things up for the camera. There's no way she can be completely genuine, right?

Whatever the case is, Eve can't bring herself to care. It's not like she's looking for a committed relationship right now.

A little kiss can't hurt her.

So she puts a slightly trembling, slightly sweaty hand against Villanelle's flawlessly smooth cheek, which is directly level with hers - on account of the damnable heels - and presses her lips against another womans' for the first time in her forty-six years on planet Earth.

The peck doesn't stay chaste for very long, and before she knows it, she's fully embraced by both Villanelle's toned body and talented mouth.

Eve can barely remember the last time someone kissed her like that, or if they _ever_ had. The longer they kiss, the harder it is to stifle the moans, and the less she cares about doing so.

There was absolutely no contest between Villanelle and Hugo. They weren't even in the same layer of atmosphere. Where Hugo couldn't even get her off the ground, Villanelle sent her straight into orbit, endlessly falling at incredible speeds, but forever suspended by immutable cosmic forces.

She feels light headed when the woman finally extricates herself from Eve's fervent hold, let's her breathe earthbound oxygen.

“So, how was it?” says Villanelle, sounding a little winded herself.

“That was...wow,” she says dumbly.

Once more, Villanelle sounds amused. “I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. A woman as fine as you deserves to be taken care of to her full satisfaction. I can help wi-”

“Please return to your spot in the lineup, Villanelle,” interjects Elena, seemingly not wanting them to go any further than they already had. At least not on camera. “You can take off your blindfold now, Eve.”

Eve has no idea what to expect. The woman certainly smelled sexy and sounded sexy, and kissed sexily, but that didn't mean she would also _look_ sexy. Maybe the real reason Villanelle wanted to do this was because only _blind_ women normally agreed to kiss her? Maybe Villanelle was hideously deformed and Eve would scream the moment she saw her, go running for the hills?

“Did you hear what I said, Eve?”

Resigned to her fate, Eve pulls the sleep mask off, blinks into the bright lights of the all white studio space and sets her sights on the people before her.

There's the familiar face of Bill, who gives her an impish look and a substantial raise to his ample eyebrows, as if to say, 'well, well, Eve, that was quite the show.'

And then there's the rest of the (remaining) participants, most of whom are decent looking, except for the overweight red haired man with the ruddy complexion. She forgot what his name was.

Bill tilts his head towards the woman at the end of the police line up. Not that Eve needed any help picking her out. She was literally the only woman still standing.

Eve can barely believe her eyes and just stares for an extended beat. There's no way this obviously wealthy, gorgeous twenty something year old was genuinely into her. She had to have just been playing things up for the camera. This was likely just a game for her. To stave off boredom or something.

Villanelle is sporting a pair of wide legged, high waisted, and shiny yellow pants. They're kind of odd, and she herself would never wear them, but they work for Villanelle. Her top is a white silk blouse with black polka dots and a matching scarf. Her hair is tied in a low hanging, elegant chignon. All in all, she looks chic as shit.

Why couldn't this Villanelle have been more average looking? Maybe a zit or two? Eve could've worked with that. She could've believed she had a chance then.

No one dressed in what probably amounted to two thousand pounds worth of designer clothing had ever shown interest in her before. Why should that change now?

Disappointment nearly knocks her out, just like the mind-blowing kiss.

Filming hasn't even finished yet, and already resentment is settling in. She was excited about something for the first time in months, hell years, and it's _so_ obvious that this isn't going to go anywhere once the cameras stop rolling. Villanelle probably isn't even gay. Just like she isn't either. So she doesn't even know why she cares.

She's so mad she could hit her but instead she goes over and yanks her into a bruising kiss. She figures if this is the last time she ever sets eyes on the insincere seductress, she might as well go for broke.

Which ironically she won't be anymore.

Then without a glance back she leaves the set.

So she doesn't see the stupefied and just plain stupid look gracing Villanelle's stupidly perfect face.

Clumsily she kicks off her damn heels and storms into the bathroom. She can't tell if her cheeks are flushed from arousal or anger. Judging by her wet panties, both. Either way, she's practically glowing. Like in her wedding photos. She has half a mind to punch the mirror, but the timely arrival of another party prevents this reckless destruction.

And of course it's _her_. Because who else would it be?

Eve figures Villanelle will just ignore her and go about her business, like they hadn't just been sucking face for the camera. So she's completely out of her element when that's precisely what they end up doing again. Sans camera.

Villanelle wastes no time thrusting her hands into her hair and pressing her a bit uncomfortably against the edge of the sink.

Even if this was a one time thing and didn't mean anything to Villanelle, Eve would take it. Or rather her body would. It was crying out from the ages of neglect. If she's more aggressive than she usually is, who cares? Villanelle was hardly fragile if her previous fisticuffs were anything to go by.

“You smell so good, Eve,” says Villanelle, burying her face into the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply.

Eve didn't even have any perfume on, nor did she think she had much of a natural scent, but apparently she was wrong.

A tongue traces from the sensitive patch of skin behind her ear until it stops at her pulse point. Which is definitely not racing like a Ferrari. Teeth scrape and nip playfully, and she definitely doesn't groan either.

“Taste even better.”

Maddeningly slowly, Villanelle trails a silky hot hand across her bare collarbone. At the dip it course corrects towards her navel, nails grazing like the tip of a blade. She squirms a bit in anticipation, and the other hand on her hip digs in, keeps her anchored in place against the sink.

“I'm going to do terrible things to you now,” mutters Villanelle, the meandering hand now on the inside of her knee, on the verge of entering no man's land.

It's only a timely interruption - or untimely, depending on your point of view - that stops them from going all the way mere minutes after their introduction.

“Um guys,” says a vaguely embarrassed Elena, “you still have your mics attached. And I would appreciate it if you didn't do _that_ in my work space. This is a rental after all.”

Then she holds out her hand and they return the unintentional spycraft.

Elena gives her a tickled look just before her departure.

Eve huffs out a laugh. “Guess we got a bit carried away.”

Her entire body is tingling pleasantly, thrumming with life and purpose.

“Not carried away enough,” replies Villanelle, deadly serious. “Do you want to go on a date right now?”

“It's nine thirty in the morning,” she says incredulously.

“So?”

The intense, unwavering gaze at close proximity is making it hard to focus.

“When you say _date_ do you mean-”

“To die for dumplings at Jin Go Gae, followed by incredible sex at my flat?”

“Yeah, let's do that,” says Eve without hesitation, brain short circuiting.

She suspects they won't make it to the flat for two simple reasons. First of all, the restaurant is currently closed, so there's no one to wander in and interrupt. And second of all, it was a well known fact that pork dumplings were an unstoppable aphrodisiac force.

Villanelle flashes her a wolf like grin and then leads the way.

Bill gives her a double thumbs up as they leave together.

She was never going to hear the end of this. From him or any of her friends. For the rest of her life.

Totally worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some actual YouTube videos about kissing strangers blindfolded. Except those were just rate this kiss kind of thing. Didn't think that would really work here.
> 
> Jin Go Gae is an actual Korean restaurant in New Malden, England, according to Tripadviser. It doesn't specialize in dumplings though. That's all on me.
> 
> Sue me for loving that criminally underused Villanelle outfit and putting it into yet another fic. Long live the yellow pants! And in case you're interested, luststricken on tumblr has compiled most of V's outfits now, so you can google how much everything costs. Guess what, it's a lot. :P


End file.
